


Just Tip Me Over & Pour Me Out

by nicetryeminem



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ass-Kicking, Cum Play, F/M, Fisting, Oral Sex, Punching, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Ass-Kicking, Somnophilia, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 14:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15536319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicetryeminem/pseuds/nicetryeminem
Summary: Negan had summoned you to his quarters many times. This is the first time you were ever nervous about it.





	Just Tip Me Over & Pour Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I... I don't know. This wouldn't leave me alone in the middle of the night. I don't even fuckin' know about the title, other than it's 4:30 in the morning and I think it's funny. I'm very, very new to TWD. Especially the seasons with Negan. Please be kind, if there are any unintentional canonical errors. Mainly writing this because Negan is 100% my type on paper and I'm dealing with major UST IRL. He's so cute I want him to punch me.

Negan had summoned you to his quarters many times. This is the first time you’ve ever been nervous about it. 

Something personal of yours had recently gone missing. Your diary. The one place that was supposed to be safe, for you to pour out your innermost thoughts.

As one of his wives, you were entrusted with Negan’s secrets. You had shared yours in return. Negan knew things about you that no one else would ever know. 

Deep down you were painfully aware that your husband didn’t know the whole story. The parts you couldn’t admit to yourself, let alone to Negan. The depth of your desires — some far too depraved to be repeated out loud. 

Not that he’d ever pried before. He was a busy man, your husband. Leader of an army. Truly a provider — for those willing to fall in line.

You quietly approached Negan’s quarters, surprised to find the entrance unguarded. Tension worked its way into your abdomen, and you took a shuddering breath, struggling in that moment to steady yourself.

Clearly, Negan didn’t want you two to be disturbed. The door was slightly ajar, a silent invitation.

Clenching and unclenching your fist, you pushed it open farther. Instinct told you to close and lock the door behind you. 

Turning around, you found Negan sitting with one leg outstretched on his couch, the other planted firmly on the floor. Perched in his lap was a small, green composition notebook, with your initials crudely scrawled on the cover. The only identifying mark, probably from a pen that ran out of ink.

Negan’s holding it an angle, his thumb resting on an unknown page. 

You can’t seem to get enough air into your lungs in that moment, breathing in short, sharp bursts. 

Your stare moves to his eyes. His grin belies his amusement, but his eyes are curious. 

He opens the book to the page he’d been saving, dramatically licking his finger and flipping the page. 

His eyes scan the page until he finds a suitable passage. To your abject horror, he clears his throat and begins narrating a particularly graphic fantasy.

“I can’t stop thinking about him. I crave him every moment, of every day. I keep thinking about the blood. Painted over his face. Decorating his hands. Everyone else is afraid.”

He glances up at you briefly, before continuing. 

“What scares me, is how I’m not scared. I think about what his hands can do and it makes me ache. They’re so big and strong. I’ve seen him strangle someone. He’s beaten people up. Don’t even get me started on what he can do with Lucille.” 

Negan lets out a chuckle at that.

“I want everything. His charm, and his darkness. I think about his hands doing twisted, evil things to me. Wrapping around my tiny throat. His fists. Landing on my body, my back, and my butt. Shoving inside my—“

“Please!” You blurt out, surging forward with an arm outstretched.

“Hold it right fuckin’ there, doll, and keep it down. I’m trying to read.” Negan’s sharp glare effectively shut you down. 

You froze, fists clenching and unclenching at your sides, looking on helplessly as Negan continued to unravel your darkest fantasy. 

“Inside my young cunt. His fist fucking me inside out, until I cum so hard can’t remember my name.”

Negan pauses to stare you down, his eyes hot and undeniably hungry. “I had no idea you were hidin’ all that in your pretty little head, sweetheart.” 

You’re struggling to find the right words, practically choking on your own tongue. 

What more is there to say? Your darkness runs a lot deeper than your outward appearance would suggest — and clearly, aligns much more with his than either of you were previously aware.

He flips past several more pages, and you realize he’s nearing the end of the book. What you’ve written about in the past few days is rapidly coming back to haunt you.

Negan scans the page, until his wolflike grin makes a timely appearance. He opens the book and places it flat on the nearby coffee table, turning it upside down. 

He sits back, content to watch you squirm, barking out a single command. 

“Read it to me.” 

You glance down at the open page, eyes widening at the passage he’s chosen. You stare back at him, desperately pleading.

“Don’t give me that, just fucking do it.” Negan enunciates each word carefully. The implication of those words sinks in from the top of your head, all the way down to the tips of your toes. 

Clearly, you’re not getting out of this until he’s good and goddamn ready to let you go.

You sigh internally, picking up your diary and retreating to the love seat across from his couch. 

You can’t resist peeking at him over the top of the book, noticing he’s getting comfortable. Without hesitation, he nods at you to continue. 

You’re all too familiar with what happens to people that waste Negan’s time. Clearing your throat, you begin to read. 

“I-I see the way he looks at… my tits. I love wearing tank tops, I-I want him to look.” Distantly, you register the sound of his zipper sliding down. 

“I think about being flat on my back with my legs spread for him. Feeling his fingers pinch my nipples while he fucks me really hard, so my tits bounce even harder.” 

You don’t know whether you’re embarrassed or aroused. Without realizing it, you’re rushing through your words. The sight of Negan pulling his cock out, seeing he’s already flushed red and leaking pre-cum, fuels your arousal. You openly stare, biting your lower lip. 

“Keep going.” Negan grunts harshly, stroking himself in anticipation. 

Sucking in a breath, you find your place on the page. “I… want him to abuse my enormous tits. I think about him sucking and biting my nipples. I want him to leave his bite marks everywhere. I know it sounds fucking crazy but I want him to hit me. I want to feel his power hitting me square in my chest. My ass. My pussy. Anywhere else I can feel it. Kicking or punching, it doesn’t matter. I know he’d never really hurt me, but the thought of him hitting me makes me so wet I can’t stand it. He already slapped me a couple of times to correct me — but I just can’t stop myself from wanting more.” 

Negan groans, hips thrusting over as he fists his cock, panting softly. “Such a dirty little girl…” 

You moan softly, eyes darting down the page, skipping tedious paragraphs about your day. You turn the page, finding your entry from last night. You glance at Negan, emboldened by his arousal, pressing your thighs together in a poor attempt to relieve your own. 

“Last night I couldn’t stop thinking about Daddy fucking me while I’m asleep in bed.”

“Goddamn…” Negan murmurs in a strangled voice, his heated eyes burning into you, his breathing heavy.

“I imagined him sneaking into my room at night, and pulling away the covers while I was still sleeping. He’d lift up my dress and see I wasn’t wearing any panties, then he’d push his finger into my pussy. First one, then two. Stretching me open for his cock. Once I was ready for Daddy Negan he’d slide his cock into my wet pussy as much as possible without waking me up. Even if I did wake up he’d bury my face in a pillow and keep fucking me until he came.”

“Ho—ly. Fuck.” Negan uttered. His eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. 

Negan looked positively delighted to be discovering the lustful masochist hiding just below the surface of his darling little wife. His pupils dilated further from his evident arousal.

Eyelids heavy, you slowly put the book down, finding Negan’s eyes. You remember the last sentence by heart.

“I love it when Daddy fills me up with his cum.”

Negan growled. “Get over here.” 

You melt to the floor, crawling across the floor and around the coffee table, sinking to your knees in front of him. 

Negan grabs your hair with almighty force, gripping his cock in his free hand and driving it into your mouth. Your eyes roll back as he sets a punishing pace, fucking your face.

“Fuck, baby! That’s how you like it, isn’t it?” He his the back of your throat and holds your head in place, effectively forcing you to gag on him. He abruptly pulls back and slaps you when you don’t answer him quick enough. 

“Yes, Daddy!” You moan mindlessly, gasping and coughing for air. 

Negan grunts, jerking his cock a few times, holding it inches from your face. Your mouth goes dry as you stare, swallowing, licking your lips. Desperate to get another taste. 

“Fuck, you drive me crazy. My little fucking whore. Say it.” Negan barks the order, and you know exactly what he means. 

“I’m your little fucking whore, Daddy.” 

Negan drags you closer, slapping you in the face with his fat cock. “Again!”

You moan, every bit the wanton slut begging on her knees before her husband. “I’m your little fucking whore, Daddy!”

“Look at me, little whore.” 

Your eyes pop open as the first splash of his cum drips onto your tongue. You greedily suck the head of his cock into your mouth, lapping up every last drop. 

Negan’s jaw drops, his body shuddering as he cries out, hips bucking as he empties himself inside your mouth.

You take your time, swallowing all he has to give you and licking him clean. Nobody ever said you didn’t give good wife. 

Negan takes a moment to catch his breath as you let him slip from your mouth. After a moment, you realize you should have seen his first question coming from a mile away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You sigh, sitting back on your heels. “The truth is, I don’t really know. I’ve never told anyone before. In one way or another, I’ve always had a dark side. Twisted urges I don’t really understand. I just, never really found the right person to share it with.” 

Without a word, Negan pulls you closer. You end up resting your head on his leg, as he gently strokes your hair. 

“I appreciate you sharing that with me.”

You wrap your arms around his knee in an answering hug, turning your face into his lap to hide the tear forming in the corner of your left eye. 

Negan tilts your chin up, his thumb wiping away your tear. “Next time, I want you to do me a favor, sweetheart.” 

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. 

“Next time — all you have to do is ask.”


End file.
